


saccharine

by aelescribe



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Consider all my writing TOA-phobic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post ToA, Slow Burn, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelescribe/pseuds/aelescribe
Summary: The Greek myth about throwing apples; seduction, declaration of love, or marriage proposal?Nico's not super hung up on the details. Just hung up on Jason.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	saccharine

**Author's Note:**

> am i starting another jasico story? yah. other stuff is in progress. im working on antihero jason and north ending. the world is falling to pieces. demand action on a local governmental level. stay safe. i have no knowledge of the final TOA book and would like to keep it that way.
> 
> it's a look at history, and how we document ourselves. it's a look at how our relationships do/not sustain when tested against time. it's a look at how we evolve. it's a look at how we forgive. it's a look at changing love.

Nico’s boots crunched snow on the steps of the wolf house. It imposed itself against dark trees and twisted thorns, serving as a warning of intimidation as well as a haven for those who it deemed fit. The last time he graced these halls was with Hazel on his way to Camp Jupiter, ten years ago. 

It had been a long ten years since.

He shouldered his sword on his back. He was bundled up in a flattering black coat that grazed his knees. He started caring more about his appearance and wardrobe pieces once Drew’s friendly jabs wore him down. He found comfort in vintage styles and the fashion of the dead. He was carrying some history with him. 

He remembered this coat hanging next to the door with his father’s boots. He would trudge in from snowy fields and Nico would coo at his feet, demanding attention first. He would tut and bounce Nico in his arms, pat Bianca’s head, and press a chaste kiss to Maria’s cheek.

Nico inhaled, slow, letting the memory linger before exhaling it into the swirling snow. 

He was here for a reason. 

Demigods received the equivalent of their military training here since Camp Jupiter shut down its army. Turns out, forced enlistment for children had a negative effect on their psyche, and the Greeks might have been onto something with giving their campers room to do arts and crafts.

Exchange programs were set up between the camps. Medicine, resources, works were shared. They were at a glorious moment of creation—the documentation of their own budding history. There were no long lasting monuments to demigods. Their parents, yes, but demigods remained fleeting in the eye of history. 

They were going to cement their narrative in a way they never could before.

Hazel was happily established as praetor, having served the legion for eight faithful years, and was inching towards retirement only at her brother’s behest. Since she and Frank decidedly shut down the army, the rite of passage through the Wolf House became the all encompassing event to test Roman spirit. And thanks to their hard won peace, a voluntary militia served the purpose the Romans needed. 

Nico was here to ferry some kid to Camp Jupiter on special request from Lupa. Her voice alone set him on edge. 

His hands itched but he daren’t draw. He had no clue what to expect. A familiar scent assailed him no matter how hard he tried to shut it out of his mind. What once brought comfort now wrung him dry. 

Shoving his anxiety back down, Nico made his way inside. Dim torches lit the cold stone floor. It was not as neglected as it had once been, and since its caretaker’s residence, seemed more… homely. Even if the appearance was as grim as he remembered, there was an energy that served to lift his spirits.

He almost missed the intricate murals spread across ancient limestone. Great battles, monsters and heroes followed the wall, dancing around flame to the throne room. Bright orange and purple strokes blending together. New paint. He recognized that careful hand. That’s when he forced his gaze away.

In the center of a long hall sat an iron throne swaddled in furs. Hypnotized, Nico drew towards it. He stretched his hand out to smooth the cool, gray pelt. The down was as luxurious as his coat—no, even more so.

“Hands off.”

Nico’s sword met the spear in an instant. The clash rang through the empty house, bouncing off stone and screaming to the outside. A spark of gold. The weapons pushed against each other, impossible magnets, as he regarded his assailant.

He looked so _old_ with that beard, face weathered like the great statue of his father sat in Camp Half-Blood’s loneliest cabin. Straw hair clouded his brow. Behind crooked gold frames, his eyes were icy rather than electric, more reminiscent of a child of snow than sky. 

With a grunt, he pushed back and sheathed his stygian iron. “I’m here in peace.”

Quiet, the man stalked him in a tight circle, nose seeking scent. When the man’s breath met his ear, he should have reeled back. Quite the opposite: he wanted to sink into it. He wanted to drown beneath the waves as he did when he was far more reckless and youthful.

But he passed by for the throne and the moment left, saddling Nico with a cold emptiness.

“Why are you here.” 

He settled in the throne, regal even as he slumped. The royalty was in his clenched fist, the tightness of his jaw, the lax spread of his legs. 

“I’m here to escort a demigod back to Camp Jupiter.”

“Half-Blood,” he corrected. “She’s not Roman. She’s Greek. Don’t know how she ended up here.”

“Some wonder.” Coming across a lost demigod and instantly discerning where she belonged, when he could do no such thing for himself, made Nico soften. His lips pressed taut together, and a coin flip could decide between smile or scowl. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

Silence and a hard stare. He heard the skitter of claws across the floor, mutts trailing their claws across stone, sweeping stone with their tails. This temperamental place still held danger, Nico reminded himself, no matter Lupa’s affiliation. 

“Yes,” he finally decided. “I suppose.”

“You _suppose_ ,” he scoffed. “Fuck you, Jason.”

Jason laughed. The sweetness caught Nico off guard. His voice was rich and deep, worn with time. Space between robbed them of any closeness they once had. So while he may have expected himself to curse Jason as soon as he walked in, he didn’t expect to be met with any friendly gesture. But that was Jason, wasn’t it?

Looking for air, Nico undid the buttons on his jacket. Jason’s eyes tracked the motion carefully. “I should have come sooner.” Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stand it. And didn’t think Jason could stand to see him either.

“It’s probably for the best.” He was resigned, the same way as when he left camp because he didn’t belong. Jason probably saw this as fitting penance for some unknowable wrong he committed. Alone, he wouldn’t put anyone in danger. He wouldn’t risk rejection. It’s a strategy that hadn’t been part of Nico’s vocabulary in ages.

And here, Jason made that apparent. As if he didn’t even want Nico here. As if self isolation was the natural conclusion. As if they were destined to end up on opposite sides. As if the gods themselves fought to keep them apart. 

“We’re setting up a third camp,” he blurted.

That caught Jason’s attention.

“In the midwest. Kansas. A lot of demigods end up dying between California and New York. Having a halfway point could save a lot of lives.” As he continued, Jason’s face softened into something familiar, the curious boy that wanted to get to know Nico diAngelo in the first place. “It’s going to be a Greco-Roman camp.”

“No place like home.” Jason seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite the task.”

“It’s most of what I’ve been doing the past three years,” Nico shrugged. “Half-Blood and Jupiter have pooled their resources pretty effectively, and this is the next big step. Leo’s, ah, spearheading the construction with Annabeth.”

He gauged Jason for a reaction at the names. He gave nothing but a sad, long blink of his pretty eyes. “That’s really exciting.”

“Yeah,” Nico nodded. “Technically, a lot of it came from your shrine drawings and construction.”

“It did.” Jason narrowed his eyes. The wolf stare that chilled Romans to their core rattled Nico, now, but not for the reason it should have. It was one thing to be threatened. But to be thrust back into the beam of Jason’s undivided attention was doing things to his heart. “You should go.”

“Wait, Jason.” He wet his lips. Winter air whistled between them. Words were stinging knives, aimed at the ready. Nico knew not how to apologize for everything the gods did to him. “If there’s anything you… if you’re interested… we would love your help.”

“ _We_ ,” the son of Zeus jeered. 

“I,” Nico corrected. 

He stood. Nico wasn’t that much shorter than him, now, but Jason seemed to tower over him in the dim light of Lupa’s haven. He shrunk back. The pelts stunk of raw meat, seemed to bleed the longer Nico looked at them.

“I don’t want anything to do with your camps. I don’t want anything to do with the gods or their children. I am here to train heroes Lupa deems worthy. That’s it. I don’t want to see you here again, or anyone else who decides that _ten years later_ is long enough to wait before making an effort.”

“You were the one who left,” Nico grit through his teeth. He pushed back, hands burning Jason’s chest where they fell. “I chased you. I looked for you. _Constantly._ And I couldn’t keep—” He counted to ten. He was never this brash around anyone else. Not anymore. “I took the hint.”

Jason’s gaze fell to Nico’s hands. He swallowed what Nico assumed was his pride, “I asked you here.”

“Why, Jason?”

They stood nose to nose, torches painting Jason’s dangerous gaze into something thoughtful, intimate. His expression changed, subtle but noticeable, the smallest changes most obvious to an observer such as Nico.

But he masked it with a three point turn back to his throne. 

“Josie,” he called. A young girl in dirty jeans and a dark hoodie stumbled in from behind a pillar. “This is Nico. He’ll take you to Camp Half-Blood. You’ll be safe there.” The tone of his voice evened at the sight of her and he knelt to her height to make sure her dagger was strapped correctly to her side. 

She threw her arms around his neck, which obviously caught Jason off guard. His hands remained stiff at his side but, at last, he gave her an awkward pat on the back. They broke apart. Nico’s heart melted at the sight.

“Hi, Josie.” He held out his hand for her to shake, smiling gently when she took it. “It’s good to meet you. I’m going to take us back using shadows—it might seem scary, but I promise it won’t hurt. I do it all the time.”

Josie nodded, determined. “What do I have to do?”

“Just hold my hand like you’re doing now.” He squeezed and readied himself when,

“Wait.”

Jason made his way over, perhaps trying to recover from his earlier fumble. He reached for Nico’s middle and buttoned his coat back up. His fingers lingered on the furry collar, falling to slip something into his pockets. Nico wanted Jason’s hands to _explore_ him. He wanted Jason’s claws to dig in and never let him go. He wanted Jason to burn him.

“Happy birthday,” he said quietly. His wan face was the last thing Nico saw before they disappeared.

Josie was a brave daughter of Ares, it turned out, and absolutely ferocious. She was comfortable around Nico, and every grand thing at camp had her desperate to prove herself. Nico took her to the infirmary and insisted she was very brave for crying when she got a shot.

“People are scared of crying,” Nico said, “because they think it makes them weak. I think you’re strong _because_ you can cry.”

“Oh,” she said, as if it hadn’t occurred to wear her tears as badges of honor. She seemed lighter, and her mood was definitely helped once she got to pick out a lollipop. He sent her on her merry way to meet her _coolest big sister_ , Clarisse.

“So, how did she end up at the Wolf House?” Will Solace scribbled something down on his clipboard and looked to Nico for all the answers.

He shrugged. “Dunno. I was just asked to pick her up.”

“By the legion? Or Chiron?” Nico shook his head. His silence irritated Will, but it didn’t take much to get him riled up. “Any verbal answers? Hello?”

Nico flipped him the bird and left.

He stewed over the day’s interactions in his cabin, which he hadn’t used in some time. A fine layer of dust covered most surfaces. He shook out his sheets and collapsed on the crooked mattress, but found he didn’t mind the moody decor of his adolescence. He would make minor cosmetic changes now, with the style he had, but it was overall solid. 

He returned much to his natural state, which was being stuck on Jason. His body hidden under fur, his face hidden under stubble, his truth hidden under words. The enormity of Nico’s want surprised him, even now, that he felt such strong pangs for Jason so much later.

He pulled the trinket Jason placed in his pocket earlier. The crude wrapping of fur and twine made his heart ache. Inside was a delicate black leather band, engraved with Ancient Greek: _têi kallístēi_ _._

He sank into his bed and traced the carving with soft eyes. Intimate was the only way to describe how he admired the gift and strapped it to his wrist. 

Nico hadn’t even planned anything for his birthday and Jason _knew_. He should have known this would mean something. Lupa appeared to him in a dream, beckoning him forth with the tilt of her massive head. He placed his hand in the middle of her snout and petted gently. He knelt and endured hot breath on his face until she spoke raspy words into his mind.

_Return to him, son of Hades._

_You asked of me to grant your sister pardon. I now ask you to do the same of my son._

_Bring him home, Nico._

The next thing he knew, he was bundling up and getting to the Wolf House as fast as possible. Lupa summoned him. Jason asked for him. And immediately chased him away.

What was Nico to do?

He thought.

What did Hazel do when he tried to isolate himself? How did Jason used to coax him out of his depression? (He thought of Reyna, and then that became painful. He shut her away.) Even Percy and Annabeth had their methods. Leo annoyed him into a new state and Piper wallowed in empathy with him.

They always bugged the hell out of him. 

The least Nico could do was the same.

So he didn’t wait for the next demigod. Nico showed up unannounced with McDonald’s at the foot of Jason’s throne. He threw a little picnic for himself on the steps, unfurling a fleece blanket for seating. 

He was starting his second cheeseburger when Jason strode in, two wolves at his heels. They growled at Nico, yapping their teeth. Their silver fur reminded him of Reyna’s dogs. He held out a box of chicken nuggets toward Jason. “Brought some for your friends, too.”

Nico tossed one. The leaner wolf with blue eyes nabbed it mid-air triumphantly, then trotted over for more. The larger wolf snuffed the ground, tracing Jason’s leg with her tail on her way over to the son of Hades.

Jason sighed and settled on his throne, content to watch his hounds sniff at the contents of the bag. “You don’t take a hint, do you?”

“Never.” Nico licked grease off his fingers and scratched the lean wolf behind the ears. “What’s her name?”

“Phobos,” he said. “Big sister is Deimos.” They were quite friendly despite their namesake, especially Phobos, who eagerly cuddled up to Nico. So many years later, he finally found comfort in animals in children, able to connect with them in ways he had never dared. They shared a similar sense of innocence that Nico understood. It was a huge shift for his character, and one Jason now witnessed without context, but was trying to reason out if the concentration of his gaze was anything to go by. 

Nico wondered what steps he missed that took Jason to this moment, preening melodramatically on his throne. What all he missed to stumble upon this latest version, cold and calculating, some animal between Greek and Roman, god and human. His best friend and this stranger before him.

“So, are you the new king of wolves?” 

Jason smirked. “Don’t let Lycaon here you say that.”

“I’d _love_ for him to tell me otherwise.” He couldn’t say he was fond of canines, what with the scars woven across his biceps from Pompeii misadventure. But Reyna’s hounds earned his trust. Phobos rolled over and Nico scratched her tummy. Even wolves were dogs.

“Lupa called me here to train warriors,” he elaborated. “She would protect me, keep me safe, the same way she did when I was young. She wanted to keep an eye on me. I would lend all my power to raising heroes the same way she raised me. That, and kids freak out a little less with a human liaison. Going back to school wasn’t an option, so...” 

Apparently neither was residing at either camp. 

“I’m glad they have someone like you to look after them,” Nico praised. He saw Jason’s cheeks reddened with praise, easy to catch with how pale he was now. “I think your temperament is good for new demigods.”

“... Thanks. You were really good with Josie, too, from what I saw.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Nico and the wolves ate while Jason watched. Eventually, Jason inched ever closer, and finally procured a hamburger from the bag. He stood tall behind Nico, casting his shadow down. The effect was electric and warm, sending an odd sensation down his spine. 

Jason peeled back the bun, lettuce and onions. He sniffed the thin patty with distaste, holding it daintily away as if preparing for its attack.

“It usually tastes better all together,” Nico suggested. “What, can’t remember the last time you ate cooked meat?”

Jason huffed. “It wasn’t _that_ long ago. I can’t remember the last time I had fast food.”

“Probably when you got back…” Nico trailed off, remembering the long road to reviving Jason. The first thing they did was order at the nearest Wendy’s drive through. He guessed the employees wouldn’t have appreciated tracking filth into the lobby. Jason cried when he bit into his first french fry and Nico asked for a hundred napkins. They wouldn’t be able to get to shower off until they got back to camp, and he wasn’t going to let all this blood dry on his skin. 

Jason coughed harshly into his elbow, trying to extricate the dry food in his mouth. The same memory didn’t make the food any more palatable for him. “Mhm. Must be.”

Nico kept coming back after that, much to Jason’s chagrin. Even worse, Phobos and Deimos _loved_ him. They yipped excitedly around him when he showed up and whined when he stood to leave. He expected Jason to start chasing him away. He didn’t. He mostly watched Nico play with his dogs and engaged in brief but polite conversation. 

One day, he traced the murals with his finger, following the story. Romulus and Remus, Lupa’s establishment of the wolf house. Her favorite heroes decorated the last few millennia all the way up to _Jason_.

The portrait gave a storm centered by a crying, feral child. Alone until Lupa. And it followed _him_ from that point on. 

The mark of Zeus searing fatty arms too young to understand the meaning behind it. A distinct girl, regal and firm, extending her lonesome bubble to include him. When it comes to _people_ , now, the focus of the art sharpens. Reyna is displayed in great detail, her ruby lips curled confidently, and emit such a calm that Nico could imagine her beside him again. He stroked the mole under her eye and forced himself to move on. 

The seven were next. Hera, stewing in her cage, and the blinding light that killed Jason for the first time. Piper and Leo were drawn in greater detail, fresh and hopeful, qualities he could no longer recognize in them now. Thalia is many colors, as if the painter wanted to blot her out entirely. Flashes of Percy and Annabeth in gray, Hazel and Frank a deep blue. 

And then, _Nico_.

The most defined and detailed portrait of all he was shocked to recognize as himself. The stone splitting under his defensive stance, stygian iron drawn, face burning with indignation and fear. A moment frozen in time, the arrow that struck him so long ago in Croatia. The scream that woke the dead. The secret that tormented him for years. 

Nico could feel it all rush back to him in an instant, Cupid’s red eyes dotting the fog. He breathed and he was back in Split, Jason’s arm around him, sailing through the air. The first touch that didn’t revile him since he left Tartarus. 

He watched himself through Jason’s eyes, scepter of Diocletian clutched in hand, summoning armies with the strength of his father at a tender age. The shadows that crept over his clothes, lightening as it went on, as Nico made the choice to turn to others, to himself, for comfort. For help. For love.

He saw himself rising over the hill in battle as the seven arrived at Camp Half-Blood for the final battle. He looked glorious and dark, framed against the roaring sun, all too powerful. A figure that one couldn’t help succumbing to. Then, the aftermath, something blurry but a moment of _feeling_ , an explosion of color and thick, warm streaks, a visual language that captured the feeling of Jason waiting, Jason asking, Jason _embracing_ him. 

The sun in the portraits then drowned Nico out. He became a ghostly figure, untouchable, something out of reach. He washed away, defined by something— _someone_ else. The sun bled and engulfed a twisted figure that could only be Jason.

Crude and angled and angry, twisted up. Chock full of arrows. Of swords. Words hurled at him like knives. The paintings became less coherent from then on. It was facsimiles of Jason bleeding, dying, screaming. The figures were not recognizable as _human_ , and only deduced because Nico understood how Jason saw himself.

His breath was in his throat and he couldn’t quite catch it. 

Then, a hand creeping from the dirt, and Nico returned strong, in full. A hero carrying the damned to safety. He saw Favonius, striking Apollo’s lover dead, and the flowers that commemorated Hyacinth’s passing. There were hyacinths, forget-me-nots, _everywhere_. And in the middle of the field of flowers, the brightest of all, Nico cradled the angry scribbles that were Jason’s form, centering him back to reality. 

Nico was _everywhere_. He was all over the walls. After that, there were scant moments and memories, children that Nico could recognize as heroes in the Wolf House, bright handprints pressed to the old stone. But so much of it was Nico. Miles, it seemed, his face stretched, filling the Wolf House, defining Jason’s memories. What was left of them, anyway. 

These paintings didn’t show his childhood aside from Reyna. Everything was _Nico_.

 _This is why you’re here_ , a voice echoed in his head. He turned sharply and came to meet Lupa’s intimidating form. He bowed before her, as he had in his dream, and her muzzle graced his jaw. _Jason is my_ son _. I see how much you mean to him_.

 _He means a lot to me, too_. He’s grateful for their exchange of thought, because he doesn’t trust his voice not to break right now. 

_You brought him back to me, and for that, I am ever grateful. But it’s time for him to move on. He has so much left_. _He is only hurting here_.

The portraits of his own death, the twisted way he sees himself. The hatred that Nico understands, because it used to plague his every waking thought. Lupa left with one last reminder, ushering Nico back to the throne room, to maintain some pretense of privacy to Jason’s visual diary. 

He stroked the cuff on his wrist, the words Jason longed to whisper to him. 

_Do not let his story end in tragedy, son of Hades. I am counting on you._

“It’s ten years this August,” Nico said at the end of spring. “We’re throwing a celebration to commemorate and open the new camp. Everyone would love to see you… solidarity with the whole seven, and everything.”

“Guess I don’t have a choice.” 

“I want you there.”

“I don’t have any casual attire,” Jason confessed. 

“We could get you fitted for your ceremonial outfit, unless you _want_ to show up in your birthday suit, ” Nico suggested with a waggle of his brows, a habit he refused to admit he picked up from Leo. 

Jason laughed so hard it startled his pups. “Who are you and what have you done with my Nico?”

 _My Nico._

Nico was supposed to be the one that ran away, hiding from the world that scorned him, lashing out at anyone that tried to drag him back to civilization. Jason was supposed to be at camp teaching kids how to swordfight on Tuesdays and rationing glitter for crafts on Thursdays. 

But Jason was here. A pillar of loneliness, the last testament to a long survived temple grown in with weeds. And Nico had stickers on his face and could smile easy even with the nightmares. 

Jason was abandoned by his mother. And then abandoned by all of his friends. He was emptied out and dumped in a maze he could never hope to find his way out of. And he spent the last eight years sleeping here alone. 

Nico wanted to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, beg countenance, beg for any scraps Jason had left to give. And he _knew_ Jason would give it to him. But he said none of that. He just smiled lightly, because it seemed to please Jason. “In the interest of making you presentable, we’ll need to get you a trim.”

“I’m not losing the beard.”

“No, definitely keep it.” Nico banished the urge to graze it with his fingertips. “It looks good.”

It was June when he returned with his most trusted stylist. His arms were full of fabric swatches, his penance for making her travel all this way. That was a penance Nico could take. He would much rather do this on Jason’s turf, where he was comfortable, than force him to come back to camp any sooner than he was ready to.

Drew Tanaka huffed a strand of hair out of her face. “This place is wild.” _Wild_ was the only way to describe it. The moment they entered the house, goosebumps tickled the back of his neck. Despite summer heat outside, the den felt cold, unwelcoming. Then the howling started. Phobos and Deimos rushed in snarling. 

Drew shoved Nico back, his arms still full, and brandished her dagger. “You’re agitating them,” Nico hissed.

“They’re agitating _me_!”

A high whistle pierced their ears. The wolves bowed their heads, jaws snapping uncomfortable. They dug their ears into the stone. The sound had them writhing.

Jason strode _past_ them and knelt, intentional and precise, bowing his head with the dogs. He growled something unintelligible. Nico felt the sound in his ribs. Jason bared his teeth in the dirt. His hands ruffled Phobos’ neck. She whined against him and rolled over, easily. Deimos was more on edge, but with some coaxing, gave into his command. Jason’s guttural grunts morphed into a soothing bass.

“They’re wary around outsiders,” Jason explained. Calm until noticing Nico, Phobos yelped and ran over, desperate to replace the load in his arms. “... Most outsiders.”

“I suppose Nicky isn’t exactly an outsider, is he?” Summer heat was not the reason for Nico’s flushed cheeks, and Drew took notice. _Nicky_ Jason mouthed when she wasn’t looking and he rolled his eyes.

Jason stood at the foot of his throne, clothes shed on his seat. He wore a low-hung ratty pair of sweatpants and nothing else. His bare feet moved silently across the stone. Jason was bulky, even unadorned by layers of leather and fur. He caught Nico’s eye and smiled, shy as Drew preened over him. Something more reminiscent of the sad, gentle boy that looked to befriend him on the Argo.

Phobos and Deimos curled around Nico while he took down measurements as Drew called them out. She held up her rendering, “All right, Jason, Greek or Roman?”

“Neither. Both?”

“Spoken like a tried and true bisexual.” Jason laughed but didn’t correct her. Nico’s ears were ringing. Above his head, Drew winked. 

Nico did not need her help, but he did appreciate it.

“Since my funeral was Roman, let’s make this celebration Greek.” The reminder stung. If the bitterness in his face was any indication, he was as over that as Nico was. After that debacle, he didn’t speak to Hazel for over a year. And Reyna… 

The siblings were better now. But, still. 

“We’ll stick with a silver accent. I’ll try and make it a bit more personalized for you—could I borrow your cloak? I need a fur swatch.” 

Drew went off with Jason and when he came back, his eyes were misty. They talked in low tones. Jason was pulling into himself. It made Nico instantly concerned. He wanted to reach out, wanted to pry, wanted to understand what they were talking about.

But this wasn’t about him. If Jason wasn’t comfortable, he wouldn’t pry. That’s what Jason did when their roles were reversed. He scratched Phobos behind her ears instead, and relaxed against Deimos’ belly. He doodled them in the margins to distract himself.

“I need you three days before the festivities begin. I have a _lot_ to get done besides your hair, so don’t be late.” Drew was blunt but friendly. She teased from a distance. He couldn’t predict everyone’s reactions when Jason showed up, but at least this first interaction had gone well.

Nico’s disappearances had not gone unnoticed by his friends. Will still questioned him for ferrying demigods back and forth under some unknown benefactor. Hazel brushed fur off all his dark sweaters. He was spending more time with Jason and his absence was noted between camps, especially with the new launch upcoming. 

He took the first of July for Jason’s birthday. They spent the day together wandering around the California hills. Nico gifted Jason with a silver clasp for his pallium. A wolf etched across the glowy dome, regal in moonlight. The inscription was Italian, and Nico grinned as Jason struggled to translate.

“It’s an old proverb. Whoever loves me loves my dog,” Nico said, and Jason _howled_ with laughter. Phobos and Deimos joined the chorus and they stayed that way for so long. 

“I can’t take one day off?” Nico laughed when the team complained about his return the following day. 

“Not _that_ specific day.” But Annabeth let it slide when Piper excused herself in a choked voice.

Nico understood the guilt. He felt much of it himself. But he wasn’t going to apologize. There was too much to be done.

The celebration would begin with a dinner to honor the seven, those that made victory possible, and those that fell during the battle of Gaea. The demigods would weave west to open the new Greco-Roman camp, and end with custom Roman celebrations at Camp Jupiter. They were commemorating peace, solidarity, and a momentous occasion in demigod history.

The son of Hades sent out an IM instructing the demigods to meet him at Thalia’s pine tree when they arrived. Some of them were already at camp. There were only a few he was really worried about talking to, and let Percy and Annabeth be for now. They had their hands full. 

They moved en masse up the hill. Emotion swelled in Nico as they approached. It had been a while since they were all together. He caught Hazel’s glance and was brave enough to meet her head on, despite the storm of emotions fighting for control.

She thought she was doing the right thing for Jason in giving him a proper Roman burial. It wasn’t solely her decision. But the fact that she never asked him to do the funeral rites, as if they were focused on getting the funeral over with as quickly as possible, was a bridge he never quite got over.

“So, Jason’s coming back,” Nico said. “And I figured we should all meet and talk about what that means.”

“It means this festival is about to turn into a week-long group therapy workshop,” Leo said. Frank shot down his high-five.

“It _means_ you have to be good to him.”

“You know who’s _real_ good to him?”

“Leo,” Hazel warned. Nico gave her a discreet, grateful nod. 

They have all developed their own unique bonds over the years, after initially being forced together, and a lot of them were quite close. Nico had relationships to these people he really treasured. But that didn’t change the fact that, “Jason was _cut out_ of this.”

“It was his choice to leave,” Hazel pointed out softly.

“And it was our choice not to go after him. What happened to Jason isn’t his fault. Guilt isn’t useful to him right now. We need to be there for him. He needs us.”

Piper chews her nails, digging into the scar on her mouth. It was on the other side of her lip where Jason’s would be. “What if he doesn’t want us?”

“We have to be there for him anyway,” Nico resolved.

Frank regarded him closely. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I have.” Nico thought. “Also, he’s been living alone with wolves, so give him a break on table manners.” 

July waned and Camp Half-Blood welcomed Jason Grace to its borders for the first time in almost a decade. 

Wolves at his heels, he calmly crossed the pavilion to where Nico sat at the Hades table. The campers all watched this compelling stranger, hungry with curiosity. Those who recognized him ducked their heads. Nico choked on his tea when Jason sat down across from him, as if nothing had changed from the last summer they spent together. 

“H-hey,” Nico sputtered.

“Hey.” Jason’s boot knocked his under the table. Phobos and Deimos curled up at their feet. Nico slid over his eggs and they enjoyed breakfast together. Whispers on the edge could not perturb their calm. 

“We can stay in my cabin,” Nico offered under his breath. “You don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to. We can wait until the ceremony.”

Jason sighed. That option clearly appealed to him, but he spoke the opposite. “It will be easier if we do it now. I don’t think they’d take it well either way, I guess, but worse as a surprise... Is this a mistake?”

Nico reached for his hand across the table. His heart thudded so loud he was sure Jason could hear it. “They’re going to be glad to see you. It’s going to be difficult. But they are going to be happy to have you back.”

“That’s why they all tried so hard to keep in touch, huh.” Silence swelled between them. Eventually, Jason turned his hand so he could trace Nico’s palm with his fingers. Nico wished he could understand what it meant. He got pretty good at reading Jason but he hid so much away. There were walls no one had access to, not even him. Not anymore, at least. 

They strolled down memory lane through camp together. Jason seemed unbothered by the heat, despite the fact he was swaddled in leather armor and fur. His hair gleamed in the sunlight. Nico wanted to run his fingers through it. 

He _wanted_ Jason. It was becoming painfully obvious to him, now. He just didn’t have a decade worth of paint to show for it.

Maybe Nico at fifteen was relieved as he was devastated when Jason left camp. It made it easier to believe he could really like Will, and he didn’t see himself falling back into a dangerous pattern of falling for heroes.

But Nico missed him. Gods, did he miss Jason. His smile, his laugh, his quiet humor, his kindness, his hands, his _everything_. He wanted to keep Jason all for himself. 

First things first. Jason was here and he was going to do his best to help him integrate.

They met Percy at the surf, where he was watching his daughter. He enjoyed a life of quiet the last few years, taking care of her while Annabeth worked on business between camps. Percy was still around quite a bit, but this allowed him to spend more time with his mother and sister, while engaging in mortal pursuits and normalities he longed for.

Nico guessed that reconnecting with Percy and Annabeth, who Jason was ultimately least familiar with, would be easiest.

His locks were tied back into a low bun and his face was clean shaven, handsome. He was at peace now in a way that Nico had never seen. It warmed his heart, which had long since lost the pain that typically accompanied seeing the son of Poseidon. He took the first step forward. 

“Welcome back, man. It’s good to see you.”

He extended his arm casually for easy dismissal. To his surprise, and perhaps Jason himself, he held the length of his forearm in greeting. “You too, dude.” So far so good.

Percy’s daughter rolled back to shore. “Again! Again!” 

“All right, just a second, baby. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He hauled her up in his arms, delighting at her laugh. He brought her over but she clammed up, shying away into her father’s shoulder. Percy cooed, “This is Jason. He’s an old friend of mine and a really good friend of Uncle Nicky.”

“ _Nicky,_ ” Jason wheezed in disbelief.

“It ended up sticking, _you_ try telling her no!”

“He doesn’t bite,” Percy assured, then glanced back at them for confirmation. “Usually.” 

Jason laughed. “As long as you’re not a monster, I won’t bite you.”

“Wanna introduce yourself? Then we can go again. Tell Jason your name.” 

She peeked her head out. She was the spitting image of Percy and Annabeth. Her brown eyes carried her mother’s severity, and her skin wasn’t as dark as her father’s, but she carried his trademark coy smile.

“Thaisa,” she mumbled. She was shy, but clearly certain of her charm, ready to weaponize it at the drop of a hat. Nico had fallen victim to her many times. 

“That’s a beautiful name. It’s nice to meet you, Thaisa. I’m Jason.”

She whispered something to Percy and he laughed. “She says she likes your glasses, Jason.”

“Thank you, Thaisa. I like your hair.” 

She shook her head wildly to show off her buns. “My dad did it. He wants to go swimming. You want to swim, dad,” she whined, tugging Percy’s hair. “Let’s go swim!”

“Okay, okay, _okay_ , yes, we can go back to swimming.” He hefted her out to the surf and she landed in the soft waves with glee, content to roll in the water. “She always phrases it as something _I_ want to do, so I might be more inclined to follow through.”

“Sounds like her mother. How old is she?”

“Three and three-quarters.” Percy grinned at Nico. “ _Nicky_ here is our—” 

“Don’t say it, please—”

“— _Demigodfather_. Came up with it all by myself. Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.” The reference went over Jason’s head. Percy looked him up and down. “Dude, aren’t you hot in that?”

“There’s not exactly room for a wardrobe in the Wolf House.”

“I mean, it’s the Wolf _House_ not Wolf _Brooklyn Shoebox_. C’mon, we’re going to get you a change of clothes. And I’m sure Drew is dying to give you a haircut. Nico, can you keep an eye on her?”

“It would be my honor,” Nico replied. He searched Jason’s face for any signs of discomfort. _Is this okay?_ When Jason nodded consent, a little smile tugging his lips, Percy clapped his shoulder and led him away from the beach. 

Nico spent the afternoon with Thaisa. Annabeth came by at one point, looking haggard, but she changed her tune the moment Thaisa leapt into her arms. Even soaking, Annabeth couldn’t help indulging her, smothering her with kisses and explaining in a sing-songy voice her current project. 

“Percy’s with Jason,” he explained. 

“Ah.” She bounced Thaisa anxiously on her lap.

“They’re getting on well.”

This didn’t seem to calm her. “I’m… worried. About Thalia.”

He remembered her blurred portrait in the Wolf House. He couldn’t do anything more than be there for Jason after… after whatever happened. “I’m worried about Jason,” Nico sighed. “Is she coming?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth gulped down her worries with a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Yeah.”

“Mommm, put me down. Put me down, put me down.”

“You wanna go play?” Annabeth asked gently. Her daughter whined. The second Annabeth let her go she ran for the surf, for Nico, laughing. When he looked back, he was surprised to see the sadness on her face. 

Nico summoned Phobos and Deimos to play in the water. “They don’t bite,” he said, more for the mother’s peace of mind. Thaisa was ecstatic to have real puppies to play _Paw Patrol_ with.

Nico’s shirt was lost to the waves and his jeans were soaked, sticking to his calf where he rolled them up. The sun felt good on his skin, soaking up his worries. 

And Thaisa couldn’t help but inspire him. He loved being around her, and loved her parents dearly. The Nico that met Jason on Temple Hill never could have imagined wanting to be around Percy and Annabeth, forgiving them, much less wanting to be part of their family. 

His heart ached, sometimes, to see the children at camp. He loved being around them, teaching them, helping them, but at the end of the day… it made him feel lonely. He went back to his empty cabin, empty apartment, and felt nothing but absence. It wasn’t just something missing. The hole it left burned him. 

Maybe Nico had always imagined raising a family, but he never allowed himself to dwell on it long. For one, he was gay. For two, demigods didn’t live very long, historically. Those two ideas shattered the ideal nuclear family he hoped to have. 

So he held the memories of his life in Italy close to his chest. He never had the chance to imagine Bianca playing with his children, or his mother cooking for their whole extended family, or his father being around for it. 

Nico didn’t know what he wanted or what he was looking for. He didn’t have any expectations. He had been with a lot of men the last ten years and now… 

He wanted a family. It was a surprising want. He was part of a family, of course, but he wanted his _own_. He wanted to make it for himself, with someone. It was just a matter of finding someone. 

Because Nico had lost his chance with Jason. And Jason didn’t want… didn’t need romance in his life, right now. He needed a friend. And Nico would be that. He would be anything Jason asked. 

Even if it broke his heart. 

The tide responded to Percy before he even set foot on the beach. A great wave crashed over the entire shore, sending Nico to the ground. Thaisa’s shrieking laughter pierced his ears and he laughed too, dragging himself to his feet. Annabeth had moved back just in time.

“Two can play at that game, Percy,” Nico reminded him. The next step Percy took sent him into the earth, the grass waist high where he had sank.

“Well-played,” Percy sighed, extricating himself with some effort. He launched himself into the water. Partly to wash himself clean, and partly to rejoin his daughter. The sun was just pitching into gold when Jason came over the hill. 

Nico beheld him. The summer light made him look less anemic, and without the shroud of his furs, he seemed more normal. Aside from the beard, he looked like the cautious soldier Nico met years ago at Camp Jupiter’s border. Sadder. He had a bulk reminiscent of Frank, but a fragility that echoed Leo. You could shatter a shield over his head, but if you said something cruel, it would cripple him.

His hair was trimmed, shaved in the back and long on top. At this length, it fell to a nice wave that he kept sweeping from his brow. His beard was fit and manly. And Drew had lent him the perfect clothes. Light corduroy slacks and a pale blue button up with the sleeves rolled past his forearms. His thick, strong forearms. Nico could believe this debonair stranger was the son of Zeus.

Jason caught his eye and smiled shyly. Nico jogged over, sand clinging to his wet feet. He wiped them on his shins, the grass, eager to converse. He had no words. He didn’t want to make Jason uncomfortable with all his longing.

 _Come on diAngelo, be normal, think of something to say, you’ve gotten pretty good at pretending by now_. He settled on, “Nice shirt.”

“Ah, thanks. Nice…” Jason trailed off and his eyes trailed down Nico’s chest. Was his face pink, or was it the sunset teasing him? “Nice torso.”

“I am quite fond of it,” Nico nodded. “Glad to see Drew didn’t shave your pelt.”

“Well, once I started foaming at the mouth, she was much more compliant.”

They shared a sweet laugh. Nico curbed the instinct to grab Jason’s arm when he bent, but Jason beat him to it. His hand was so big, Nico had gotten taller the last few years, but Jason was just _bigger_ than him. His fingers pressed light, and the touch was retracted just as quickly. 

Nico became aware of the eyes on them when Annabeth came up behind him. She was radiating anxiety. Sensing that, he took the pressure of the conversation upon himself. “Dinner in a few hours, yeah? Coming to the campfire after?”

“Thaisa loves smores,” Annabeth said. “I’m sure she’d love it if you could come.”

“We’ll start with dinner and go from there.” He toed the shaken dirt, not meeting her gaze. “You’ve been well?”

Her smile strained. “Mostly. You?”

He didn’t dignify a verbal response, only a tired huff of air. Phobos and Deimos shook themselves dry and inched forward, defensive, no doubt sensing Jason’s inner turmoil. 

Annabeth and Jason were never especially close, and he guessed Thalia was part of that sticking point. But he didn’t let it burden him. He raised his head and asked Annabeth about the new camp’s construction.

After a lengthy spiel of its architectural infrastructure, and showing off a copy of the blueprints on her monster-proof phone, she explained, “It’s called Ogygia, after Calypso’s island. It’s half honorary. The idea is that all who enter, no matter who they are or where they’re coming from, are heroes.”

“That’s… amazing. Really. I’m excited to see it. Wish I had that camp growing up. Could’ve saved me a lot of confusion.”

“Me, too,” Annabeth said. “I mean, I’m Athena’s daughter through and through. But we would’ve found Percy much faster if we figured you out first.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. But we wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun along the way.”

Their conversation came to an eventual lull and Jason broke to check in with Nico who was sitting patiently nearby tending to his wolves. They met their master’s return eagerly. 

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Jason uttered, ruffling Deimos’ collar. “I can take care of myself. I won’t die without you. This time.”

He flushed. “I know. I just…”

“I appreciate it, Nico. I would have done the same for you.” And he did. Being with Jason was the best part about being at Camp Half-Blood. It was one of the few times he was ever truly happy here. “But I’ll be okay, really. Go freshen up.”

He gestured his thoroughly soaked jeans and naked chest. “I’m sorry, is this not acceptable attire?”

 _Go freshen up_. The phrase set butterflies loose in his ribcage. It was a dinner with _everyone_ , the whole camp, honoring the seven, and it was going to be emotional and awkward and difficult. But Jason’s suggestion had him rifling through his closet for the perfect complement to his dress as if they were attending together.

A man could dream.

At last, he tied his hair into a ponytail, which was how he wore it most days now. Clothes were dumped all over his floor, most discarded through picky selection. He waded through the sea of fabric and stopped at the door. He took a moment to center himself and then stepped out into the open air.

Chiron delivered a heartwarming dedication to the seven and the great half-blood heroes and gods that assisted their journey to defeat Gaea. Nico might have been the only one able to tell that despite the companionship touted by rumor that would become legend, they had not all been in a room together since that quest. Not even for Jason’s funeral.

He forced away the sore spots and tried to be happy. That was the least he could do. So he put on a smile when they stood together in solidarity and shared a moment of silence for the fallen. That’s when Chiron summoned Nico forward. He took the gold chalice in his hands reverently, red swirling the rim of the cup.

Jason stepped forward, much to the group’s surprise.

Nico felt all eyes on him and he was back underground ten years ago, everything shaking but his hands, offering himself to Jason. 

Catholics took communion, that much he remembered from his childhood. He was never confirmed, but he did take communion on the tongue with his mother. It seemed sacrilege to him, swallowing the body of god. How was he worthy?

Now he was on the other side of that. He was the perfect idolatry and the son of Jupiter seemed to want nothing more than to fulfill Nico’s wants. Their hands met at the chalice only for a second, but it lasted an eternity. He drank from the chalice, dying of thirst, _worshipping_ with each bob of his throat. A godlike haze came over him. This was power, giving oneself to someone so completely, surrendering the body and mind.

His lips were red when they came off the rim. 

“Save some for the rest of us.” The tension dissipated with Leo’s jab and Nico quickly moved onto the rest of the prophesied demigods. 

The big three tables were pushed together to make room for the seven to eat all together. Jason caught Nico’s eye and pulled him over, despite his protests. “I’m not one of the seven, Jason.”

“You’re honorary,” he insisted. 

“I thought you didn’t need me to babysit you.”

“I don’t, but I can’t stand to sit here by myself.”

Nico laughed. Caving was easy, when it came to Jason.

They sat on the end of the bench, trying to create a comfortable distance between themselves and the others. Percy and Annabeth sat closest, amicably, their daughter eager to keep their attention to herself.

Hazel forced herself beside Nico pointedly and cleared her throat. She used to be so _little_. He still saw her as his little sister, even long-limbed and gangly, taller than he was. She had come into her own confidence over the years, and while his wardrobe trended brighter, hers became darker. She carried the quiet self-assuredness of their father.

“It’s good to see you, Jason.” Her dark brown eyes welled with empathy. “Really. It’s been too long.”

“You too, Hazel. You got _tall_.”

She grinned over a forkful of sweet potato. “Taller than Nico. Taller than you, with my docs.”

“ _My_ docs,” Nico corrected.

“You never asked for them back. Oh, speaking of, I don’t know if you want them but Jason, I have all your old sketchbooks.” She took his lack of response as incentive to move forward. “If you want them back, please. I would have put them in your cabin, but I didn’t want them just laying out in the open, so…”

“I would.” His fork shook in his grip. “Thanks for hanging onto them.”

They shared sympathy in an exchange that Nico didn’t understand, culminating when their hands met across the table. Nico brushed his pinky against his side, trying to rouse him from the sad quiet that was his default, a small gesture to mean _I’m here_.

Jason didn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Hey, Jason, it was just your birthday!” Percy reached past his daughter to clap him on the back. “How many, big guy?”

“I don’t know,” he said, so honestly that the table was caught between laughter and pity. “I guess… twenty-seven. When you’re raised in the wilderness, you don’t really keep track of your birthday.” But he kept track of Nico’s. He rubbed the leather cuff, the words binding his wrist.

“And you left eight years ago?”

“Which time?” Leo pointed out. Jason laughed, even when no one else did. 

“Point is, we have a lot to make up for. Why don’t we hit the city after this, show you around? Thaisa’s gonna spend the night with my mom, so we can crash at my place after. No pressure,” was the afterthought, noting Jason’s pensive look. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, and his beard made him seem more gruff, standoffish in conversation. “Whatever you want, man.”

Jason looked at Nico. “Could be fun.”

“Are you asking me?” His lips quirked. 

“I’m asking if you think this situation would be more tolerable if everyone was drunk.”

“Then _definitely_ yes.”

“Sure, Percy, sounds great.” And his knuckles traced the outside of Nico’s knee under the table.

They end up at some cozy dive with gay and trans pennants everywhere, and dim purple lighting to boot. Jason and Nico stood at the bar watching Piper and Annabeth caterwaul The Cure over speakers not designed to handle their combined vocal power. 

They were waiting for a round to bring their rowdy table in the back. “You want a drink?” He had to lean in to ask over the sound. Nico’s heart stuttered.

“I’m fine.”

Nico may have had the propensity to drink like a fish, but if Jason wasn’t drinking, neither was he. He knew the tumultuous relationship his family had with alcohol. 

“You’re not my chaperone, Nico. _Please_ have some fun.”

“I _am_ having fun,” he insisted, and that was true. He would appreciate some alcohol to numb his nerves around Jason, but that itch was nothing compared to the burning of being beside him. 

But he waved the bartender over again.

“You sure—?”

“Stop asking me that.”

“Sorry. Two negronis for our tab.”

“You should be.” His lips quirked, the telltale sign everything was okay. “Besides, I figure you’re the best person to get a drink with, especially for a newbie.”

“Why’s that?”

Jason paused. His response came at the end of _Boys Don’t Cry_ , ringing loudly in Nico’s ears, “You make people feel safe.”

The drinks slammed down on the counter. He held one glass out to Jason, teasing, enticing. The symbol of their shared trust. Jason took the bait and drank without hesitation, which turned out to be a mistake, if the sour screw of his mouth when he pulled off the glass was anything to go by. 

“This is a _sipping_ drink.”

“I sipped it, that was a sip. I just have a bigger mouth than yours.”

“And a sloppy one at that.” When he was drunk on Jason, he didn’t need alcohol to make him bold. 

“Dude, where do you _go_ in the Wolf House?” Leo asked as soon as they got back with everyone’s drinks. “I don’t exactly remember there being plumbing, or anything. Do you have to periodically mark your territory? Like a monthly thing where you round up all the wolves and drop your pants? Jeez, talk about a _full moon_ —“

“Leo, look, alcohol! Put some in your mouth so you stop talking!” 

“Be honest, Frankie, you love the sweet, melodious sound of my voice.”

“I do not,” he assured him. “Please drink.”

“You first. Get this, Jason. He’s really into _craft beers_.”

“Glad that’s all I missed in ten years,” Jason said dryly. “Frank, craft beers. Got it.”

“I can’t get drunk,” Hazel offered. “At least, we haven’t found the bottom of my tolerance yet. And don’t let Frank fool you, he’s a total lightweight.”

“Hey—!”

“Hey guys, just because I’m the Designated Demigod Driver, doesn’t mean you can get _too_ wasted. Anyone who pukes is not getting a ride home. You’ll have to shadow travel drunk.”

“That was one time,” Nico said. 

“What was one time?” Jason goaded. “Tell us, Percy.” Piper, beside Jason, asked him something quietly. Her hand rested casually on his arm. Nico pretended not to notice and finished off his drink. It was so inconsequential it set him off wondrously. 

“As I was _saying_ , after his _sixth_ drink—”

Annabeth caught his eye across the table. She looked equally distressed. He jerked his head toward the bar. She scrambled out of her seat.

They left in a hurry and in a series of flustered gestures communicated their exact feelings. Annabeth talked about being a mother because Nico was the only one who gave an informed, unbiased opinion. Two refills in, they were reeling. 

“My mom just popped me out of her brain, y’know, I never asked for this. My _dad_ certainly didn’t ask for it. I wonder if all Athena’s partners are just begrudgingly saddled with children they didn’t want, as if us being burdens gives our lives more merit than other demigods. Being deprived of love has to count for something, maybe intellect, maybe levelling us out—whatever. So how am I supposed to want her as a mom? But is it that different from a human birth? If someone gives birth to a child, are they _supposed_ to want _that_ child? Is that child supposed to want _them_? Just by merit of their loins? Percy is so. So good at this, it’s infuriating, and don’t give me that look it’s not _all_ gifted child syndrome. There’s no guidebook. I can’t get _better_. Am I doomed to be a terrible parent? Am I terrible? I tried eating the right things and thinking the right thoughts but what does that matter? I’m not supposed to control her and I’m doing everything I can but I don’t know how to make her _want_ me. I don’t know how to learn this. I don’t think I can. It’s just… me. She loves me, Percy loves me, but of course they do. I don’t think she _likes_ me. I’m not a likable person, Nico, and you can love someone a _whole lot_ without actually _liking_ them. I’m scared. I’m scared she doesn’t like me and I’m going to ruin her. Sally’s such a good mom, so good to Percy, I don’t know how to do that, be that. I don’t know how to give that to our daughter. I never got it. I just—don’t. Anyway, what’s new with you?”

Nico downed the rest of his drink with a grimace. “Jason.”

Her expression changed instantly, relieved to change the subject. “Ah. I noticed.”

“That obvious?”

“Gods, yeah. Don't get so worried about Piper.”

“I know.” 

“Don’t get defensive. Boys don’t find that attractive.”

“Don't tell me what to do. I’m done with boys. I’ve had my fill of boys.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Finally done with Solace?”

“Please. We finished years ago."

“Mmh. _You_ did.”

Nico wanted, for no particular reason, a cigarette. Will, sweet and simple, a world away from his desires. It took him time to admit that. But he was still something Will was holding onto, for some godsforsaken reason.

He caught Jason’s eye across the restaurant, where he conversed close with Leo and Piper. Everything stilled. He looked so lost, distant, but _together_ in a way Nico had yet to see. He smiled over the rim of his glass and wondered what he was doing hiding out at the bar instead of making himself comfy under the crook of Jason’s arm.

Annabeth mouthed _Jason_ moments before his hand clapped Nico’s shoulder. It _almost_ warranted a groan out of him. He prided himself on his restraint and carefully spun back around.

“You trying to get rid of me?” The tone was light but Jason’s hands were stuffed in his pockets and his body constrained with tension.

“No,” Nico answered honestly. “Annabeth was divulging her marital problems with me, and out of respect for Percy, my first love—I can’t. Too soon.” He mockingly sobbed into his hand.

“Wasn’t too soon in your speech,” she joked. “He’s all yours, Jason.”

Jason led him away from the bar, casual hand on Nico’s lower back to lead them through the slowly crowding establishment. “When did you talk about Percy?”

“I got quasi best-demigod privileges with Tyson.” He remembered that day distinctly. Only six years, a lifetime ago. “It was really beautiful. I didn’t even get upset at the ceremony, I just…” He had looked at himself in the bathroom hours later during the reception and suddenly burst into tears. The feeling seized him again, sudden and strong. He covered his mouth to keep from crying out.

“Nico?”

The bravest hands the gods ever made graced his shoulders and Nico almost burst. 

“It was wonderful,” he said, blinking tears from his eyes again. “It sucked.”

In that moment, Nico wondered about his desire for a life most would consider normal. It wasn’t something he wanted anymore, not in so many words. But if normal was _right_ , the closest he ever felt _right_ was being with Jason. They missed everything about each other. How were they supposed to function together, apart, together again?

“We’re too old for this,” He squeezed Nico’s shoulder, tight, grounding. “Want to sing about it?”

“Oh, we aren’t nearly there yet,” Nico sniffed. “Leo’s buying shots?”

“He’s offering someone the chance to buy them _for_ him,” Jason corrected. The laugh in his voice faded. His hand found Nico’s elbow, looking for an excuse to latch on. “We don’t have to stay. Or drink. We could get out of here.” Nico chewed his bottom lip. He wanted to escape. He wanted to leave with Jason he wanted it to be the two of them he wanted it so so _bad_ — 

Which is how he found Leo and talked him into doing body shots. 

Nico kept making distance between himself and Jason and Jason could _tell_ , and Nico could _tell_ Jason could tell, with his sad eyes trailing him as he raced from moment to moment, too afraid to stay still. 

Human conventions were not necessarily healthy for demigods. They weren’t healthy for humans, either. Living outside such a carefully constructed society, Nico observed behavior that left him absolutely puzzled. People did said and acted in ways that betrayed their true selves, if only to satisfy a public perception of acceptable behavior. It was killing them. And it was killing him.

But everytime he caught Jason’s face under bar lights he was back in Croatia, swimming in those well blue eyes and he couldn’t fucking take it. 

So pretending like he hadn’t walked through Tartarus,

Pretending like he was having a good time,

Pretending like he wasn’t _still_ hung up on Jason— 

It all bled together with the blurry murals in the Wolf House. So Nico drank and hung onto Jason’s shoulders and kept the barest bundle of wits about him just so he could take Jason in, just in case this moment faded with everything else. 

“Dude, dude, fucking get up there,” Leo slurred, pushing him onstage. Nico fumbled with the microphone and laughed deadpan when Radiohead creeped through the speakers.

“Very funny Leo,” he growled into the mic as deeply as he could. His friends laughed. He couldn’t see Jason under the lights and blinked the thought away. The mellow guitar settled into his bones and he relaxed. Whiskey had him warm and he was not quite yet undone. 

He rasped the first verse into the microphone. He was fourteen. He sunk his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His shirt was too tight. It didn’t fit anymore. His loose black button-up didn’t hide that it was the shirt he was wearing when he first met Jason and he was _begging_ to be noticed.

Just as he readied himself for the first verse, a different voice captured his ears. Soft and odious the sound invaded. It was something new, something he had yet to hear, something that echoed the longing in his soul.

Jason’s lips buzzed over a second microphone and with a strange, quiet intensity, he focused on Nico. His limbs were jelly. Someone was pouring hot honey all over him, melting him down, exposing all those things he learned to hide when he was a kid, all the things he was still afraid to let out of his early twenties. 

_“When you were here before_

_Couldn't look you in the eye_

_You're just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry_

_You float like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

_I wish I was special_

_You're so fuckin' special—”_

Jason wailed the chorus into the mic, much to the delight of the bikers at the bar. Piper and Leo screamed up at him from the base of the stage. Hazel gave Nico a discreet look. 

Nico licked his lips and picked up the second verse. Jason was entranced, whether his voice or the fact that Nico was wearing the band Jason got him for his birthday, it didn’t matter. They were the only two people alive there, foggy, light, screaming their hearts out in a moment that felt too close to the truth.

Their friends applauded loudly when they concluded. Jason helped Nico off the stage. One cheer in particular caught his attention and he stopped, stone cold sober for a moment, and regarded the newest member of their party at Piper’s arm. Dark hair angled at her chin, expression impossibly smooth and severe as ever, betrayed by the faintest fond glint of her dark eyes. “Jason, Nico,” Reyna greeted. Jason rushed her into a hug, lifting her off her feet, laughing. 

Having not seen Reyna in six years, and not having spoken to her in eight, Nico excused himself to go throw up.

**Author's Note:**

> bearded jason is based on dustin milligan with a beard (do yourself a favor and look it up. do yourself a favor and watch schitt's creek because patrick/david IS the jasico dynamic.)  
> comment bookmark smash that kudos button check out my other jasicos O_O


End file.
